


Bed Buddies

by shewearsglasses



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gwen Doesn't Die, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bad Flirting, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gwen Stacy is a BAMF, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mocking, Morning Cuddles, Peter is a Cuddler, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Spideypool - Freeform, Tacos, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewearsglasses/pseuds/shewearsglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Wade needs a place to stay for a night, maybe two. At least he promised not to be annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed Buddies

It started out simple. Wade just needed a place to stay. For a night, maybe two. He promised not to be obnoxious or unclean or annoying or loud or– _please please please just let me stay here, baby boy!_ Peter had agreed without truly agreeing. He’d just sighed and left the apartment. But Wade was on the couch fast asleep—or pretending to be—when he got home.

Gwen didn’t seem to mind.

Originally, she’d been against the entire concept of Deadpool— _aka the Merc with a fucking mouth, Peter! He’s dangerous. He_ kills _people—_ but she’d grown on the overgrown child when he started bringing her tacos and complimenting her on her outfits—if crass comments about her ass and _damn girl, your rack looks phenomenal today!_ counted as compliments—and then one day, Peter came home to find them both playing Mario Kart on the couch, their sides pressed together and both of them talking as much trash as they could while simultaneously speeding around corners and throwing bananas at one another.

“What’s this?” Peter had asked, hand on his hip. He dropped the take-out onto the coffee table they were using as a foot rest.

Wade’s tongue was pressed between his lips as he concentrated on the game and for once, words didn’t fly from his mouth immediately. He grunted, and nudged Gwen with an elbow.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” She said, moving her controller with the motion of her racer, as if that would help propel the car further forward. She glanced at Peter, and then at the take-out. Grinning, she snatched a handful of fries from the bag and responded with her mouth full, “Wade’s better competition than you.”

They’d been friends ever since. Annoyingly so, as they often ganged up on Peter. But, he enjoyed the fact that could finish up his homework while Gwen entertained Wade. The Merc used to jump in through his window and annoy Peter until he gave up on the work entirely and followed Deadpool out, tugging his mask on just before he closed the window behind him.

Anyway, Wade had started sleeping on the couch under the cover of ‘needing a place for a night or two.’ But after two weeks had passed, it seemed he wasn’t going anywhere. He even started pitching in for rent after a month. Gwen had probably been the reason for that, but Peter wasn’t complaining.

Then one night, Wade had come home bloody and covered with bullets. Gwen had scrambled through the bathroom cabinets looking for alcohol and bandages and had played doctor until three in the morning. Peter held his hand while Gwen poured the alcohol and cleaned his wounds. After she rubbed at her eyes, and yawned, Peter made her go to bed. “’Night,” she whispered, and kissed Wade on the forehead. She knew about his healing, but she was still the biggest worry-wart Peter knew, and a little mutant power wasn’t going to get her a better night’s sleep.

Peter had insisted Wade take his bed. “You’re not sleeping on the couch,” he’d said. But Wade moaned and groaned so Peter ended up sleeping there with him. The bed was easily big enough for both of them, and yet somehow, when Peter woke up the next morning—thankfully first—their legs were tangled together and Wade’s arms were around his waist. Peter’s left hand was fisted in Wade’s shirt; he’d carefully unraveled them and got up.

Gwen was in the kitchen when he shuffled out. She had a coffee cupped in her hands, and her hair was curled and perfect as ever—it was as if she never had a bad day, the damned witch. “There’s a pot on,” she said and he pulled a mug from the cabinet. “How is he?”

“He’s,” Peter’s voice came out as a squeak, so he cleared his throat and said, “He’s better. He’s—better.”

Gwen grinned at him, and then moved her coffee mug to block her amusement from view. Peter could still see the smile in her blue eyes, “Yeah?” There was laughter in her voice.

“What?” Peter said, and he really tried not to sound snippy, but from the crinkle of her brow, he knew he’d failed.

Gwen took a long sip from her coffee, and when she lowered the mug to the table, her mouth was straight and her eyes were serious. She rubbed at her nose—that was her give, what told Peter she was putting on a show—and said, “I peeked in your room to see him when I woke up.”

Peter cursed under his breath. He turned away to hide his blush. Gripping the coffee pot, he poured it into his mug and then set it aside to find the sugar. “Did you even look over his wounds this morning? Or did you just rush out of there like some trashy hooker?” Peter froze, and Gwen hummed. She must’ve seen the tightening of his back muscles, ‘cause she went on, “Never pegged you for such a cuddler.”

“We only dated for like a week, Gwen,” Peter said. He turned and leaned against the counter so he was facing her, mug in hand. “You don’t know much about my sleeping habits.”

She shrugged and took a sip from her coffee, “Yeah but we’ve lived together for three years, and we have movie nights once a week. You _hate_ when I lean on you.”

“I don’t hate it,” Peter mumbled.

Gwen grinned at him, and slurped down the rest of her coffee. She stood and put the mug in the sink, “So you’ve just been putting on a show to hide your big softie tendencies?” She lifted a fist and nudged at his nose. He scrunched the appendage and backed away. “What a cute little Spidey.” She turned and flounced out of the room, calling, “You’re not getting out of movie night cuddles ever again!”

Peter only moved when he heard the click of her door closing behind her. He set his half-full coffee aside and walked across the apartment to his bedroom. He stopped in front of the closed door and almost thought about knocking before he remembered it was _his_ door. He opened the door, and glanced at the bed where Wade was still curled up around one of his pillows. “Wake up,” he said loudly. Wade groaned and pressed the pillow further into his face.

“Wade,” he said, and grabbed a pillow from the ground to throw it at his head, “Wake the fuck up, it’s eleven.”

“It’s a Saturday,” Wade said, his words muffled by the pillow. He rolled over, “And I’m hurt.” He sounded pitiful, but Peter knew he was just faking it.

“Oh come on,” Gwen said, appearing behind Peter to lean against the door frame, “Don’t be such a baby.”

Wade sat up when he heard her voice, but the process was slow and he glared at the pair of them, “You should fucking talk, Blondie! You were practically crying over my wounds last night!”

Gwen huffed and left the room. “Coffee’s getting cold,” she called over her shoulder.

Obviously the first night in his bed had been a fluke, as Wade was broken and bleeding. But then they fell asleep on the couch the next night, curled around each other watching TV, and when Peter woke up, they were covered in a blanket Gwen probably threw on them.

And the next night, Peter went to bed early when Wade was still out, and Wade must’ve slid under the covers next to him while he was sleeping, cause they were face to face the next morning. The fourth night, Peter didn’t even protest when Wade got into bed with him instead of setting up the couch.

After a week of sleeping in the same bed without talking about it, Gwen started making comments. Peter hated her. He swore he should’ve moved in with Harry instead; he’d even offered. But Gwen had obviously needed a roommate much more than the Osborn heir.

Wade and Peter were enjoying Gwen’s pancakes, while she leaned against the counter sipping at her coffee, when she said, “So who tops?” Peter turned red and hurried to clean up his plate and flee the room. Much to his embarrassment, Wade just laughed.

Then the next night, they were all on the couch watching a new scary movie. Gwen was positioned between them, with her head on Peter’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around his one, and Wade’s comforting palm on her thigh. She was a huge scaredy-cat. The couple had just gotten into bed together, and Gwen said, “Who’s the little spoon? I mean, I’d assume it was Peter cause he’s so tiny comparatively, but like maybe you’re one of those couples?”

Peter pushed her into Wade’s lap, and grunted, “We’re not a couple.”

Wade poked her in the nose, and leaned down to whisper, “Petey.”

Peter didn’t hear the rest of their conversation because he was too busy storming off to his room. If they had been a couple, Peter would’ve made Wade sleep on the couch, but he was avoiding the question, so Wade was able to slip under the sheets and pull him back into his chest without complaint.

It took sixteen days for Peter to cave, “Why are you sleeping with me?” He asked. Wade was sitting against the headboard, one leg up and an arm bent over it, the other drawing patterns on Peter’s bare shoulder.

Wade leered down at Peter, who was lying on his side facing Wade, “I’m not, but I can if you want me to.” He leaned forward and Peter scrambled up and out of the bed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said with his hands on his hips. “Why are you in my bed?”

Wade shrugged, “Beats the couch, and you offered.”

“I _offered_ cause you were practically dying.”

“Yeah, but you never specified whether it was for one night or ever, so,” Wade shrugged again, and sat forward. He reached out to pull Peter towards him, “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Peter said.

“You want me out?” Wade asked, and his lips were tilted up in a smirk. He _knew_ Peter wouldn’t reject him now.

Peter could hear Gwen bumbling around the apartment outside their closed door—he froze. _Their_? No fucking way.

Peter opened his mouth to say yes, YES I WANT YOU OUT THIS IS MY ROOM NOT OURS, but instead he said, “No.” His voice was small, and he scuffed his foot against the edge of the carpet. He refused to meet Wade’s gaze. He just knew Wade was grinning at him.

“Then you want me to stay?” Wade said.

Peter looked up at him, “I don’t know.” He kicked at the ground, and Wade finally got a grip on his wrist and tugged him into bed. Peter ended up sprawled across his chest practically straddling him. He gasped and scrambled to move off him, but Wade wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and locked him to his chest.

“What do you want, Peter?” Wade’s voice was surprisingly gentle. They were inches apart, Peter noticed, and he licked his lips. Wade’s eyes caught the movement and Peter was suddenly more self-conscious than he’d been when Gwen had walked in on him in the shower.

He pulled himself up onto his elbows above Wade, and muttered, “I don’t know.” His words came out frustrated and meek. He sounded like a child to his own ears.

Wade leaned up, “Do you want this?” He pecked him on the lips, and leaned back with a smirk. Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he tried to think of something to say—anything. But he was failing fast. He closed his mouth and allowed Wade to lean forward again, eyebrow raised as the question hung in the air. Peter started to shift away, but Wade locked his wrists and rolled them over so he was on top of Peter, his hands gripped the sheets to the left and right of Peter’s face. His cheeks felt hot.

There was a knock at the door, “Peter, can I—”

Peter shouted, “Not right now.” At the same time that Wade said, “Come back later!” The knocking stopped, and there was a moment of silence before Gwen’s footsteps retreated in the direction of the kitchen.

Wade turned his fact back to lock eyes with Peter, and Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Wade was kissing him. He grunted. His hands moved by his sides, but he didn’t know what to do with them, so he ended up just fisting them at either side of Wade’s waist. He didn’t know whether to pull him closer—closer so much closer—or to push him to the floor. He kissed back, his lips slower, more gentle, where Wade’s were rough. He seemed to push every ounce of his passion into the kiss. Peter took a breath when Wade pulled away, struggling to pull as much air into his lungs before Wade kissed him again. But a second kiss never came.

Wade rolled off him, leaving Peter out of breath and—lonely? Wade sat with his back to him as the Merc pulled on the pair of pants he’d left on the ground. Peter’s gaze shifted lower—he’d forgotten Wade slept in boxer briefs and nothing else… Peter swallowed hard, “Wade?”

Wade glanced at him, then stood to pull the jeans over his hips. He buckled his belt, and turned to face Peter, leaning over the bed, he poked Peter in the forehead. Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed the t-shirt near the foot of the bed to toss it at Wade.

Wade’s hand was on the doorknob when Peter spoke, “Yes.” Wade looked back at him, eyebrow raised. Peter huffed, and stood up, crossing the room to stop in front of Wade. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Peter lifted himself onto his tip-toes to kiss at Wade’s chin. Wade’s mouth dropped open, for once in his fucking life, the Merc was speechless. Peter reached around Wade and opened the door, darting through it and out of Wade’s reach before he could speak.

The sleeping arrangements didn’t change after that. Well…Except for that one time Wade called Spider-Man “over-rated.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can't not add Gwen. It's a problem, really. I need therapy. Seriously.
> 
> Today, I was getting Chipotle, and the guy making my tacos saw my TASM shirt and asked if I'd liked the sequel, and I literally said, "I don't like to talk about it." (Obviously cause I'm still mourning Gwen), but like what? I shouldn't be allowed out of the house. I just can't talk to people. He was kinda cute too, and I just fucking shut him down.
> 
> ANYWAY: I hope you liked this!


End file.
